Distracting
by Jen215
Summary: He was distracting. The kind of distracting that holds your interest beyond the first hello, beyond the pleasantries and through an embarrassingly long portion of the evening. The most infuriating thing was that I couldn't help it.


**AN:** A Dramione short written from Hermione's POV. Still working on "The Arrangement" but writing has taken a backseat lately, thanks for being patient.

**Disclaimer:** Draco, Hermione and all other names you recognize, are fictional characters created by J.K. Rowling herself. I do not own them.

He was distracting. The kind of distracting that holds your interest beyond the first hello, beyond the pleasantries and through an embarrassingly long portion of the evening. The most infuriating thing was that I couldn't help it. I could barely pull my eyes from him long enough to focus on a single conversation yet I knew there would be a price if I was caught staring, searching, watching. I tried to figure out when he had grabbed my interest, how long had it been now a month? Two?

No. Much longer.

The first time I noticed him was back in school. His sour tongue was spewing pureblood hatred and I was at the receiving end. When he wasn't trying to prove his importance, he was bearable, handsome even, but mostly he was graceful. He moved with fluidity that no one else seemed to possess. How long had I been acquainted with his acidic words and been aware of his flawless wand work?

Years. I had been noticing him for years. Eleven, if we're counting.

It shouldn't matter. It didn't matter, I told myself as I observed the lines in the wood table in front of me. I looked up and watched Ginny's animated moments as she relayed another wedding planning debacle. It was comical and stressful and yet I had no idea what she was dealing with or what she was going through. It was strange really, I could have been in her shoes but I opted out, broke things off and paved a new path. A path that would never lead me down an isle to become a Weasley, a path that was new and foreign and unknown. I didn't feel bad about it, my relationship with Ron. It was over almost as soon as it was started but it took us a year to figure that out. So many people were rooting for us that the hardest part was letting everyone down, but we did it and it's been good. Being friends with someone you've slept with is not as easy as it seems, but it's not hard either. Once you finally forget what he looks like without clothes on, it helps.

I thought I was doing alright. I had only made eye contact with Draco half a dozen times before it was time to leave the pub. Better than last week, of course tonight I was trying a lot harder. I put my arms into my coat and when I turned around he was there, right in front of me.

"Granger, let me walk you home?" I registered that he was asking but he said it as a statement and so I stared for a moment before I nodded my head in ascent. I gave Ginny a hug first before making my way around to the few other people still in the establishment with us. It was our weekly gathering and always on a Friday. It was a satisfying way to start a weekend, leaving your work woes at the bottom of an empty mug, so you were really free on your days off. I didn't miss the grin on my redheaded friend's face but I choose to ignore it. She would question me later and I was already dreading it.

He was patient and said his farewells to our friends in the same order I did, just behind me, following me. It would be hard for all of them not to notice that we were leaving together. If I was lucky, maybe they would all have indulged too heavily and this would not even register on their radar. If I was lucky. He was on my heels when I reached the door leading us outside and promptly pushed the door open for me. He was close, too close, as we made our exit and turned right to head west toward my flat. He wasn't so unacquainted with me that he didn't know where I lived but he had never walked me home. As the shock of him accompanying me wore off the questions began to run though my mind. Why was he leaving with me? Was it just a coincidence since he lives down the street? Did he want to talk? I needed to know what he wanted. Not that it should matter, but what if it did?

I walked a few steps away from the noise of the pub before looking over at him next to me on the sidewalk. "Any particular reason you are walking me home tonight?"

"Any particular reason you were watching me tonight?" He questioned right back without missing a beat. Only he wasn't supposed to ask me this question, he wasn't supposed to have noticed and even if he did he shouldn't be asking. He didn't know that this was something I couldn't answer. I had been trying to figure it out myself but the only conclusion I could reach didn't make any sense and so I had repeatedly dismissed it.

"No, why do you ask?" I replied as innocent as I could, hoping he would drop it.

"That's funny because you watched me last week too. I thought it was strange when I noticed but I let it go. Then tonight, you did it again. It's strange, right, you staring at me like that?"

It was like his thoughts were leaking out onto the sidewalk and I could hardly keep my shock hidden. I slowed to a stop as he talked, as disbelief grabbed hold of me. He had noticed and he was confronting me. It was a nightmare and yet what did I expect. Malfoy was forthright and aggressive, I knew that and yet I was still surprised that he was questioning me? Nothing made sense in the moment that my feet stopped on the concrete so when I opened my mouth I told him the truth.

"I don't know, actually."

"You don't know _what_, exactly?" He asked looking confused as we stared at each other. It was odd and uncomfortable, to put it mildly. I turned away from him and began to walk, thinking of a way to respond. He was next to me again within a moment and now he was watching me, waiting for me to tell him, to answer him.

"I don't know if it's strange, I don't know why you noticed, and I don't know why I… why I watched you."

"People don't watch other people without a reason, Granger." He ground out, his irritation fresh and hot, radiating from him. I felt my steps grow in speed, an unconscious response, and I tried to put some distance between us. I didn't get far before his fingers wrapped around my upper arm, just above my elbow, and prevented my forward progression. It was unnerving how strong his hold was and I realized as I turned to look at him that I was angry. How dare he follow me out of the bar, demand answers that he has no right to and then prevent me from escaping? I was angry and… and intrigued, …but mostly angry.

"Look," I bit out, "I don't have the easy answer you're looking for… I almost don't know myself."

"Quit playing games, Hermione." He was angry too.

I sighed, the fight going out of me. I was stuck and I was going to have to tell him that I… what exactly did I feel? Can someone actually be this out of touch with their feelings? What was I supposed to tell him?... and why was he still holding onto my arm?

"Alright." I conceded in a huff and he released me at my ascent to cooperate. "I find you interesting."

He studied me for a moment, his emotions unreadable in what I assumed was a well rehearsed mask just for these types of uncomfortable situations. "Interesting? You find me… interesting? Why the staring, I don't understand." It was genuine, his confusion. What did it mean that I found him interesting? These were the thoughts that I had been suppressing, ignoring, denying. Now was not the time to figure this out, now was not a time to be venerable.

"I guess interesting enough that I was watching you?" I offered lamely. I didn't even believe myself, why would he accept it.

He kept his eyes trained on mine as I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. He was intense and my heart was racing waiting for him to make a move. It was like a heated game of chess, a strategic battle of wit, strength, and cunning. He was winning, of course, I was rubbish at chess.

He finally sighed and looked away from me, down the street, back toward the pub. I wondered if he was regretting coming with me, forcing me to tell him something he certainly didn't want to hear. Would this nightmare ever end? "Let's go, I… I'll walk you to your flat." I didn't remind him that he was always supposed to be walking me home, that this was the reason we were standing here staring at each other at 1:30 in the morning in the middle of the city sidewalk. I didn't tell him, I just turned calmly and began to walk in the direction of my flat. Had he given up? Was I actually going to get away with not saying anything more?

We turned two corners before I could see the stone wall that lined the stairwell to my building. Relief washed over me as we drew near and I began to pray to Merlin and God and anyone that would listen, please, no more questions, not tonight.

I turned to him before walking up the stairs to my sanctuary, opening up the opportunity for him to question me, but I had to be polite. "Thank you for walking me home." I waited for him to acknowledge me before I moved. He nodded his head and I didn't hesitate in my retreat. I had made it to the landing when he called out to me.

"Granger, you have one week to figure this out. I'm not patient, no matter how interesting you find me."

I did not heed his threat even though I knew he meant business. I'm stubborn, so it was only fitting that I suppressed the memory of our encounter and breezed through my weekend and into the next week. It took until Wednesday until my resolve had wavered and our walk to my flat the previous Friday began haunting, consuming my thoughts. I had a hard time concentrating on the case laid out in front of me, and it was infuriating. Anger bubbled just below the surface, I could feel it simmering and I briefly wondered if this was my way of avoiding the inevitable? If I was mad, would it be a way to shield myself from dealing with my feelings? No, I wasn't a coward; surely my anger was warranted, deserved even.

With a renewed resolve I had pushed all thoughts of Draco Malfoy from my mind and made it to the end of the week. Whether or not I felt anything for the wizard was irrelevant and I refused to even entertain the notion that I had found him interesting at all. I put on my game face as I entered the pub and made my way over to my group of friends. A small ounce of relief washed over me as I noticed he had not arrived, but that wasn't unusual, he always showed late, fashionably so. By the time Ginny had accosted me I had managed to choke down two fire whiskies and was ready to dive into my third.

"You cleaver little Witch, how dare you avoid me all week!" She began pulling me not so gently by my arm, away from the crowd of our friends. "What happened last weekend with Malfoy? What did he want?" She demanded, curiosity lacing every word.

It was no use lying to the girl, she surely had noticed me watching him, and it was not wise to play her for a fool, so I gave in and confessed. "He wanted to know why I had been watching him." She grinned at my defeated honesty.

"Funny, I was actually wondering the same thing…" she trailed off, that grin still firmly in place. "Spill, Hermione, before he gets here."

I tried twice before I could get words to come out. "I… I don't know, Gin. I can't help but stare at him, almost like my eyes are stuck, like I have no control. It's unnerving, really. I've been trying my hardest not to find him interesting because if I find him interesting it might mean something, and I really don't want it to mean anything. Please tell me something is wrong with me, Gin, that I'm crazy, that I don't feel anything for him. I can't fancy Malfoy, Its… its… oh, this is awful." I groaned, I had said too much. Spending energy to repress, ignore, and deny any possible feelings had been for not. Now as I stood before one of my dearest friends I had developed some kind of word diarrhea and was spewing thoughts that should never be verbalized. I was doomed; I was back in the nightmare from the previous Friday only it never really ended, right, just took a short hiatus to make room for normal life and then flared back into vivid reality.

Ginny's smile never faltered or faded, maybe it deepened a little, but I couldn't be sure. "Relax, Hermione, breathe. Maybe you like him…" At the panic on my face she hurried on, "but would that be so bad, really? He's so different then when we were in school. Maybe it's worth finding out? What's the worst that could happen? You figure out you're not suited for each other?" Her words tumbled out in quick succession as she tried to bring me comfort but it hadn't worked. I knew fancying him was possible but it wasn't an outcome that I was willing to acknowledge.

No. No, this was not happening. I vowed to myself as I stared at my friend that I would squash these… feelings or whatever they were and ignore that there might be a chance that I could fancy him. I would make it go away "Just think about it, Mione, before you dismiss it completely? Stranger things have happened, yeah?" Her smile was warm and comforting and for a fleeting moment I found myself compelled to trust her to believe her words to see…

No.

A movement over Ginny's shoulder caught my eye and I didn't even have to look directly at him to see his graceful strides as he made his way in our direction. I was doomed, this cruel reality continuing as my thoughts fumbled with a way out, I was smart and resourceful, I could figure this out. But my brain was slow, feeling the effects of the fire whisky. Why had I drunk so much so quickly? Why had I determined that to be a good course of action? Or wasn't it?… maybe… maybe it was just what I needed, more fire whisky, an excuse, an out.

"I'll think about it, Gin… and thanks."

"I'm here if you need me." She mentioned, slinging an arm around my shoulders and walking us back toward our group of friends. "It will work out like it's meant to." I knew this, of course, things always had a way of working themselves out, it was the going through it part that I was dreading. Once you were clear on the other side it didn't seem so bad but the struggle seemed to be in the getting there, didn't it? I didn't need another struggle, I needed simplicity and calm. My life had been filled with too much heartache and enough pain and fear to last several lifetimes. How I managed to survive, even now, I sometimes wondered. Did anyone else suffer, still suffer, every week, reliving the memories in more vivid detail then should be allowed in your sleep state. But, here I was, surviving, even living on occasion.

I took a seat and ordered another fire whisky, my savior for the evening. I tried to stay engaged with the conversations around me but by the fifth drink, everything was hazy. Then he found me, I was working hard to finish off that libation as he took the seat beside me. "Granger." He acknowledged in his annoyingly condescending drawl. The pub was frosted in a dizzy haze of music and chatter and lights and smells, it was hard to focus and even harder to gain control. I didn't want to talk to him, yet as infuriating as it was, he still managed to be distracting and I could hardly stop myself from smiling at him when I turned to look him over. I knew he was here for an answer, or explanation, but he wasn't going to get one.

An hour passed, maybe longer, the alcohol fog I was operating from didn't allow me to properly estimate how long I had spent at the pub, let alone how long Malfoy had been beside me. We didn't speak, and I tried desperately not to even look in his direction. It was a good night and I couldn't remember the last time I had indulged so heavily, it was liberating, scandalous maybe. One minute I was sitting at a table with my friends and the next I was stumbling out the door and onto the sidewalk. The cool night air was refreshing and almost had a sobering effect. I could feel the weight of my purse resting on my shoulder and hear the uneven steps as my heels made contact with the cement. I made it to my flat, stumbled out of my shoes and was filling up a tall glass with water when I heard a knock on the door. Before it had occurred to me to look through the peep hole in the door, I was pulling it open. He stood before me, arms crossed, a hint of anger in his brow. I didn't invite him in I just stood there watching him, waiting. Finally he held his arm out in front of him, offering me the coat I had so carelessly forgotten at the pub.

"Thanks." I managed as I reached for the garment. He didn't let it go but instead took a step forward. "Can I come in?" He inquired taking another step as I retreated. Before I could find the words to respond he was inside my apartment and closing the door behind him. It was unnerving how he was able to manipulate me without doing anything. He was distracting.

I woke up to the blinding light of the sun peering through my bedroom window and cursed aloud as a throbbing pain pounded in my head. It took me longer then it should have to find the hangover potion that last night's overindulgence required, but I felt relief immediately after ingesting it. As I padded into my kitchen I noticed a note lying on the counter next to the sink. A slanted, yet tidy scrawl covered the page and a knot in my stomach formed as I looked at the signature along the bottom. My mind tripped over itself trying to remember the events of the previous evening through the alcoholic fuzz that clouded my memories. Suddenly I recalled Malfoy stopping by my flat and my eyes flew to the parchment before me.

_Hermione,_

_We have things to discuss. I will pick you up at noon for lunch, as we agreed._

_Draco_

My heart raced as I read the short note a second time. "…as we agreed?" I questioned aloud trying to remember when I had consented to something as ridiculous as lunch with Draco. Panic hit me in a wave of heat that suddenly flooded my chest before slowly burning it's way though my body. Last night. I had agreed last night. How much had I told him? Did I confess that I might fancy him? "Merlin help me!" I sighed closing my eyes and leaning my head back. This whole lunch thing didn't make sense… unless he still didn't know anything. I let a huge breath go and peered at the clock. I wanted so badly to owl him and cancel but I knew he would corner me at one time or another so I might as well just get it over with today, maybe then he would avoid me out of sheer discomfort at knowing the truth. He was unpredictable, at best, I knew that. Everyone knew that. I also knew that he hadn't dated anyone serious in over a year. It was weird, his lack of dating, since witches were always throwing themselves at him.

I wrestled a brush through my wet hair and applied the latest Sleek Easy potion to tame my curls into order. I pulled on a pair of dressy shorts that were cuffed just above my knee to go with the polka dot blouse I was already wearing. I heard his knock as I was looking myself over in the mirror and I slowly made my way to the door, my heels clicking on the hardwood. This time I checked the peep hole in the door to spy him waiting on the other side before I opened my flat to him.

"Good afternoon" I greeted, neutrally.

He gave a tight smile and nod before walking through the doorway. "I half expected an owl insisting that we cancel lunch. Honestly, I'm shocked that I'm here and that you are agreeing to eat with me." He admitted.

I leaned on the door until I heard the latch click. His gaze was penetrating as he waited for a response. "I won't lie, I thought about sending an owl." I grinned and his lip turned up in approval.

"What stopped you?" he asked, curiosity dripping from his words.

"Well, to be perfectly frank, I knew that you would corner me at one juncture or another so I figured I might as well get this over with." I told him, challenging him to tell me I'm wrong, but he didn't, couldn't.

"Shall we go then?"

We walked next to one another, close enough that his hand brushed against mine a couple of times before he tucked it into the pocket of his kakis. It was a short walk to the Thai restaurant in my neighborhood and I was relieved to see the booth in the corner was open, since it afforded more privacy. He slid in across from me and within moments the waiter had handed us menus and taken our drink order. I always ordered the same thing and had set my menu down without even glancing at its contents. I studied him as he perused the items offered, his face contemplative as he searched. He looked nice, dressed in a black collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top button open to reveal his pale skin beneath. He was handsome and proud in an aristocratic way, and in the dim light of the restaurant his hair appeared darker then when we were in school. It suited him better, I thought. He only looked up to study me once while looking the menu over but it was enough to make my hands sweat.

Once we had placed our order I took a long slow sip of water in an attempt to calm my nerves but it was fruitless. I knew the uncomfortable part was about to begin and I silently contemplated the loo as an excuse to slip out the door. His voice brought me out of my fantasy and into the nightmare I had been dreading.

"I wanted to talk to you, about last night, about what you said." He began.

"What I said?" I could feel the blush in my cheeks as panic welled up in me.

"Yeah… Wait, you don't remember do you?!"

I was speechless and mortified. This was exactly the reason I could never really be friends with Fire Whisky, his bad influence wrecked all kinds of havoc on my life. I needed simple and calm, not this… this mess of a lunch. After a deep breath I managed to confess. "Not much and the parts I do are fuzzy at best. I over did it last night, to put it mildly."

He laughed. Truly laughed. A in my face, at my expense, laugh. I was seeing red by the time he was done drying his tears of mirth. "I don't see why this is funny." I fumed crossing my arms over my chest.

"Of course not." He chuckled again before taking in my posture and sighing heavily. "You made no sense last night and I've been trying all morning to figure out what you were trying to explain to me but I get it now. I didn't realize you were so… inebriated." He grinned across the table at me.

"What did I say?" Curiosity and suspicion laced my question and I narrowed my eyes just slightly.

"Why were you watching me?"

"What?"

"At the bar. Why were you watching me?"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't."

"That's a lie! You followed me home on two separate occasions for an answer. I think you care."

"This is absurd! You're the one eyeing me like a piece of meat, which makes no sense since we don't like each other. Hell, we don't even know each other!" He was hissing across the table at me, his frustration overwhelming and forceful.

"You never answered either of my questions." I pointed out irritably.

"And you never answered mine."

Our argument was interrupted with the arrival of our waiter and our lunch. We both dug into the food, ignoring each other. After a few minutes my anger began to wane and I looked up at him but he was still brooding, focused on his meal. I reached for my water and he looked up suddenly. We stared at one another for a long moment before he released a sigh. "I'm sorry." He told me, still holding my gaze.

"Me, too." I responded after a minute and gave a tight smile.

He put his napkin across his plate and placed more than enough Euros on the table to cover our meals. "Let's go."

I climbed out of the booth feeling just as uncomfortable as I had when we arrived. As we walked back toward my flat I noticed he seemed miles away but I reasoned that was much better than the brooding.

"Do you mind if I come in?" He asked as I unlocked and opened the door to my apartment.

"Sure." I answered slowly, uneasy, wondering what we could possibly need to talk about.

I turned to see him standing in my foyer nervously running a hand through his hair. He looked at me as I leaned my back against the door. "Thank you for lunch." I offered. "I meant to tell you earlier." I trailed off feeling awkward.

"You're welcome… and again, I'm sorry. This is not how I wanted any of this to go. I just wanted to understand. No one has ever told me that they find me interesting… I don't understand what that means." He let the words hang in the air between us.

"Crap." I muttered. "You want the truth?" I asked, accepting defeat.

"Please."

"Ok. I suck at this kind of thing so just, I don't know, …try not to laugh." He didn't respond, but the right side of his mouth quirked up in a grin.

"When you originally questioned me I gave you the best answer I had at that time. I didn't lie to you. I really didn't know how I felt or why I was watching you."

"But now you do?" He inquired.

"I think I do."

"What does that mean? You're not sure?" His frustration laced his words.

"No, I'm not. Look this isn't easy for me so quit harassing me." I shot back.

"You are infuriating! You either know or you don't!" He retorted in frustration and then ran a hand through his hair as if proving his frustration. I watched him for a moment before looking down at my feet. I was just going to tell him. Maybe then he would leave and we wouldn't be having a repeat of our lunch argument.

"I like you." I told him softly, still looking at my shoes. His movements stilled and he took a step closer to me.

"Say it again?" I heard him ask. I looked up at him to find all his anger had faded and he watched me with inquisitive eyes.

"I was watching you because I like you."

He just stood staring at me for a long length of time before he spoke. "You like me? As in fancy?"

"I asked you if you wanted the truth."

"Why?

"Why, what?"

"Why do you like me?"

"You're serious? As if telling you wasn't hard enough, as if coming to terms with having a crush on a boy you spent 7 years in school despising isn't enough… You want a reason?" I pushed off the door and headed for the living room as anger enveloped me.

"Hermione." Hearing my name fall from his lips pulled me up short and I paused in my tracks. "I just want to understand." I turned then to look at him.

"What is it you need to understand, Draco?"

"I need to know if you're serious. I need to know how a girl like you falls for a guy like me. Doesn't it say somewhere that this" he motioned to me and hack to him, "is forbidden, or something?"

"What does that matter?" I asked irritated.

"How doesn't it matter?" He shot back just at irritated.

"It just doesn't. None of it matters. I'm not even sure why you care, honestly."

"I will not be made a fool of, Hermione, and I don't take relationships lightly." He told me but his frustration was waning.

"Wait, what? Who is talking about a relationship?" He walked forward, closing the gap between us.

"I am." He spoke softly, picking up my hand. He stared at it for a moment before he pulled it up to his lips and placed a kiss on my knuckles. I'd be a liar if I said I didn't swoon. My knees went weak and I did everything I could to keep my jaw from hitting the floor.

I took a step back and shook my head in an effort to clear it. "You like me?" This was too much for one day.

"Yes, for a while actually." I didn't know what to say to that so I just watched him as he shifted uncomfortably. This confession should make me happy, why wasn't I happy? I pulled my hand from his and turned away from him.

"I should go." I heard him say. I didn't respond but listened as he walked out of my flat, closing the door with a soft click.

The next few days passed by in a haze and I felt numb. Some decisions weren't as easy as they should be. Why was that? This was about love, or at least about liking someone, so it should be easy, right? He likes me. I should be smiling and excited but I wasn't I was terrified and nervous. I needed to be sure I wanted to get involved with him. I needed time.

"Maybe you don't like him as much as you thought." Ginny conceded.

"I'm confused, Gin. What am I supposed to do?"

"How often do you think about him?"

"Often."

"Do you look around public places trying to spot him?"

"Yes." I confessed.

"Do you picture him naked?"

"Ginerva Weasley! I can't believe you asked me that question!"

"Quit being a prude and answer, it's important."

"Often." I told her with a straight face but I could help the grin that creeped up seconds later.

Ginny laughed."Hermione, you are so clueless! You like him, plain and simple. Quit worrying about the rest of the world and just go on a date with the poor bloke already."

She was probably right. I was rubbish at dating (and chess, but who's counting) and she always seemed to know me better than I knew myself. It's not that I never dated but I always dated safe guys, or boring guys if we're being honest. Draco was different. He had given me trouble since the first day I had known him so why should today be different. It wasn't but he was causing a whole new set of issues in my life.

Friday arrived before I was ready but I went out to the pub like I usually did and he showed up late, as always. We avoided each other at first but then I could feel his eyes on me when I wasn't looking at him and I knew it was futile trying to stay away for long. He wore dark denim that hung low on his hips and a fitted t-shirt, he wore it well, but I think he knew that. As the crowd thinned I made my way over to him and sat down, making sure my leg brushed against his. He looked up suddenly, but smiled when he saw it was me. I returned it with a genuine smile of my own, maybe the first since all of this began.

"Hey." He greeted casually, putting his arm across the back of my chair.

"Sorry I freaked out on you last weekend. I needed time to think… plus this makes me nervous."

How about this, instead of an apology, which is completely unnecessary, say you'll come to dinner with me tomorrow night in Diagon Alley."

"You're actually still interested in seeing me after I was such a jerk to you?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Can't help it, I like you."

"Crazy."

"Agreed."

"Ok. Dinner sounds lovely."

"I'll pick you up at seven o'clock." He leaned in pressing his lips to my ear. "Wear a dress."

I smiled at him as he traced a circle on my shoulder. It was then that I allowed the happiness to settle over me.


End file.
